


Not Broken

by BooksandKpop



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Terushima Yuuji, Asexuality, Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25694380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BooksandKpop/pseuds/BooksandKpop
Summary: "He was sixteen, wondering why he was different from his other friends."There is a process to growing up, to realising you don't feel the same way others do. Yuuji wished that someone had told him it was ok to feel different, so he wouldn't have to believe he was broken.
Relationships: Futamata Takeharu/Terushima Yuuji
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	Not Broken

**Author's Note:**

> This is just me projecting onto Teru and I'm sorry. 
> 
> I based a considerable amount of feelings and stuff on my own experience with coming to terms with my asexuality. I love reading ace hc's for characters and decided to finally make one of my own. I also made Yuuji's mom a badass because we all need someone like that in our lives.

Yuuji remembers being thirteen and seeing an older neighbour out walking, hand-in-hand with a boy her age. Yuuji’s mother had cooed at them, making them blush with words Yuuji hadn’t understood the weight of. “That’s her boyfriend”, his mother had said with a soft smile, “Don’t grow up too fast, my baby.” He had nodded and accepted his mother’s words. There was no need to rush, he was only thirteen. 

When they were fifteen teachers told them about body changes and new feelings they might start to feel. Yuuji listened with rapt attention, his mind always hungry for any information he was given. He thought about his older neighbour and the boyfriends she had brought around their sleepy street. There was no rush, he was still only fifteen. 

At sixteen, starting high school, Yuuji joined the volleyball team and made new friends. He had grown over the summer, convinced his mother to let him get a radical new haircut. For his birthday he was going to ask her to let him get piercings like hers because they looked so cool. Yuuji focused on school, absorbing all the information he could, and on volleyball, striving to be the best he could be. He passed no heed of his classmates’ whispers about crushes and the likes. There was no rush, he was still sixteen. 

But when lunchtimes with his friends started to tend more towards talking about girls than volleyball or manga, Yuuji started to wonder why he didn’t understand the feelings they described. He didn’t ask, didn’t say anything, content to just sit and listen and learn. It didn’t take long for him to learn the difference between girls that were “cute” and those that were “pretty” and those that were “beautiful”. He started making himself pay attention to female classmates and girls who came to support the volleyball team at matches. But even though he could tell the difference between girls who were cute or pretty or beautiful, it didn’t make him feel the kind of things his friends would talk about. 

He was sixteen, wondering why he was different from his other friends. Maybe his body was just slow to bloom because his mind was growing so much. That satisfied him for a while. After all, his mother had made him promise not to grow up too quickly, and Yuuji was happy to focus on school and volleyball without worrying about whether he should be paying more attention to the girl who asked to borrow a pencil than his homework. None of his friends seemed to notice that Yuuji didn’t speak up at lunchtimes, and so he figured it was fine. 

After he got his tongue and ears pierced, Yuuji noticed more people looking at him. His hair before had been a bit of a standout point, and now he had another one. He didn’t mind the attention, Yuuji loved talking to people and making new friends. But after a while, he started to notice that the way girls started talking to him was different. They would bat their eyelashes and twirl their hair and giggle at everything he said. He broached the topic with his friends one lunchtime and got a chorus of jealous sighs. They were flirting with him because he was interesting to them. Yuuji hated the twist that formed in his gut at the expectations that were placed on him now. He still didn’t feel anything like he was supposed to when he looked at the girls who came to talk to him, but he hid his discomfort behind a laugh. It was fine, he was in no rush. 

One school year turned into another and Yuuji started getting confessions. He turned every one of them down as gently as he could. How could he explain to these girls putting their feelings on the line that he didn’t like them as anything more than a friend? It wasn’t that he liked someone else, as some of them tended to ask, or that they weren’t his type like others pouted about, it was just that Yuuji had yet to feel anything akin to what his friends described when they talked about girls who had caught their eye. Yuuji started to wonder if he was broken - if his body was weird in a way that made him different from everyone else. He got a reputation as a bad boy, a heartbreaker, and it made his chest ache and his skin felt too tight for his body. 

He was seventeen when some of his friends started to poke and prod at the feelings Yuuji had been trying to hide from. Why did he turn down every girl who confessed to him? Did he have a secret girlfriend he was hiding from them? Were his standards just that high that no one in Johzenji was good enough for him. He tried to laugh it off, the way he always did, but his chest was burning. He just didn’t like any of them that way, and that explanation seemed to soothe their interest for the moment. But Yuuji knew it wouldn’t last too long. They were starting to talk about things more intimate than before, things that made Yuujis’ stomach churn uncomfortably. Why couldn’t they just talk about volleyball?

The pressure and teasing words came and went, always with a forced laugh from Yuuji, waving them off. But he was sinking deeper and deeper into a mindset that wasn’t good for him. He must be broken, surely he was broken, that was the only explanation for why at seventeen he still felt nothing when he looked at even the most beautiful girls in their school. The brush of skin against his own was not like a jolt of electricity, and while he could appreciate why his friends would find the girls that continued to confess to Yuuji attractive, he didn’t feel anything like what he was supposed to.

But his heart ached for something all the same. Sometimes he would get caught in a debate with someone over coursework, or movies, or music, and his heart would thump a beat faster. Sometimes he would hear someone laugh so loud and uninhibited at a stupid little thing that it made a warmth flutter under his too-tight skin. But it was always unpredictable and fleeting. It was never a heat in his gut or fog in his head or a shake in his knees like his friends would laugh about, it was something softer. It hurt a lot more than he could put words too. 

One of his most uncomfortable guilty memories came from when they were at a volleyball tournament. Yuuji was captain of the team now, brimming with pride and excitement to get on the court and play with everything he had. They went to the stadium on the first day to watch other matches and size up the competition, and Yuuji’s eyes and mind were focused solely on the sport in front of him. He felt free when he was in places like this. But it only lasted until the end of the day. Bobata had elbowed him as they were heading back from the bathrooms to meet the rest of the team, and Yuuji had followed his nod. There was a very beautiful girl walking through the corridor, bento box in hand. His stomach had rolled and his chest had tightened because he knew what his friend was hinting at. And he didn’t want to do it, but he couldn’t let anyone know that he was broken. So he put on a grin and they went to talk to her. He was relieved when the ginger kid came and broke suffocating tension around them. Yuuji was more than happy to escape after that, laughing with Bobata that at least he had given it a shot. Inside though, he felt awful. 

If he didn’t even feel something for such an objectively beautiful girl, he was definitely broken. But maybe he was just being prudish? Maybe if he really tried, and pushed himself to accept the feelings of any girl who confessed to him, maybe it would kick start his body and fix him. The thought made his skin squeeze tighter around him, but Yuuji didn’t know what else to do. His body wasn’t completely unresponsive, he got flashes of what he guessed were the feelings his friends talked about, but trying to do anything about it resulted in disgust creeping over him. Imagining the face or body of a beautiful girl was guaranteed to make those occasional flashes of heat die down in an instant. Yuuji desperately wished he knew how he could not be broken anymore. 

When the break rolled around Yuuji revelled in having time away from his friends. As much as he enjoyed their company and energy, he couldn’t stand the constant talk about girls that he wasn’t able to relate to. Bobata got a girlfriend, and Jiri was in a weird kind of relationship with a girl from his class. But their moving forward like this meant there were even more discussions about feelings and ideal types and Yuuji started to panic when he was supposed to meet his friends on his days off. 

Then, one night, Futamata called him out to the park near his house. Yuuji pulled on a sweater and ran to meet him. Of all his friends, Futamata was the only one who never poked him for answers about girls, didn’t tease him about the confessions or participate in their lunchtime conversations. Yuuji appreciated his companionable silence and felt no pressure when it was just the two of them together. He found his friend sitting on one of the swings, swaying gently in the warm night breeze. Yuuji smiled and sat beside him with a simple greeting and waited for his friend to speak.

“Teru, I have to tell you something.”

There was a brief moment of ice-cold panic that rushed through Yuuji’s veins. Futamata was smart and observant, maybe he noticed the way Yuuji was uncomfortable during every conversation. Maybe he knew Yuuji was broken. A small, bitter part of him wanted Futamata to know, to call him out on it so that Yuuji wouldn’t have to harbour this secret alone any more. But Yuuji’s secret was not what was on his friend’s mind.

“I - I think I’m gay.”

Yuuji could hear the fear in his friend’s voice, the fear of being viewed like he was wrong, or broken. He reached out and wrapped a hand around Futamata’s, a grounding presence. Yuuji had an idea of how that felt, only he wasn’t brave enough to admit it out loud. But then, the weight of those words really reached him. What if Yuuji wasn’t broken? What if the reason he felt nothing for every girl he saw was that his body wanted something else. He turned and found Futamata watching him, with tears in his eyes and a quivering lip. Yuuji squeezed his hand and offered him a smile. He didn’t care what his friend’s preference was, how could he judge when he had none of his own? When he caught Futamata in a teary hug, he put aside his own thoughts for a while, to reassure his friend that everything would be ok.

The following weeks brought about a few changes. Yuuji and Futamata spent more time together, outside of being with the rest of their friends. And even when they were all gathered together for volleyball or lunch, the pair of them would sit side-by-side and observe what was happening around them. Jiri was actually dating that girl now, Bobata was going through his first fight, and Tsucchi had come to the realisation that he had a crush on their manager Runa. Sometimes the conversation would still swing around to things that made Yuuji’s gut twist uncomfortably, or someone would ask him who his latest confession was from, but something about the warm, solid weight of Futamata by his side made it a little easier. 

He had spent time thinking too. Yuuji started to make himself notice his male classmates, the members of his volleyball team and the basketball team too. Through whispered, private conversations with Futamata, he began to learn how to categorise boys too. They could still be cute, and pretty, and beautiful, but Yuuji also learned how to determine whether someone was handsome too. He rather liked that one, noticing broader shoulders and sharp jawlines and muscular arms and legs. Yuuji whispered to himself at night, hidden in the safety of his blankets, repeating those words over and over again. Admitting to himself that he might be gay, that it was boys and not girls who he was more interested in, was like a weight off his shoulders. It still didn’t feel entirely right, but he felt like his skin wasn’t tight and constricting around him anymore, and that was good enough for now. 

Still, there was no sudden spark of desire for anything, no rolling heat in his gut that would bring a blush to his face. Imagining faces still was a guaranteed way to chase away any fleeting warmth, although the thoughts of lean muscle weren’t all that bad. But Yuuji still ached and craved something deep in his chest. He was sure that as soon as he figured it out, he would have the key to fixing his broken head. 

As the months crept past, Yuuji turned 18 and they became third years. As Yuuji and Futamata remained the only ones in their group of friends who had yet to boast about stolen kisses or new girlfriends, Yuuji began to realise something else too. He was certain he liked boys more than girls, although still not the same way everyone else seemed to experience it. But that wasn’t it. He had started to notice the way his heart would beat just a little bit faster when Futamata reached for his hand or leaned against his shoulder. Yuuji’s palms would sweat when they shared lunches and took the bus home from school together. His knees would shake and ears would burn as they changed next to each other in the locker rooms before and after volleyball practice, even though they had been doing it for the last two years too. Yuuji was falling for his best friend. 

Yuuji had never directly admitted that he was gay to his friend, not entirely sure if it fits him. There was no denying that he had a crush on Futamata though. His friend had been so brave, opening up to him all those months ago, not sure if Yuuji would accept him for who he was. But he did it anyway, and Yuuji wanted to be brave like that too. So the next time he was staying in Futamata’s house for a sleepover, he waited until they had said their goodnights to everyone else in the house and wouldn’t be disturbed. He waited until his friend was comfortable in bed while Yuuji lay on the futon on the floor. And then he simply admitted it. 

“Futa, I have to tell you something.”

His friend listened to Yuuji’s words, his harboured secrets and fears of being broken came tumbling out unplanned, alongside the confession that he had planned for. It was a relief, finally saying the words that he had clutched like daggers close to his heart every day since he was fifteen and wondered why he didn’t seem to feel the same way as everyone else. When he eventually ran out of words and breath he realised he was sobbing. There was a pause and then Futamata was climbing down onto the futon beside him, one hand going to Yuuji’s face to wipe away his tears and the other curling into his hair for comfort. Yuuji let himself be pulled into a hug, arms wrapping around his friend and heaving deep breaths against his neck. 

“Yuuji, I like you too, you know.”

The admission whispered against his ear sent heat shooting down his spine. He clung tighter and let that settle into his skin before he did anything too hasty. But then he thought about how long he had been hurting, and how much comfort his friend always brought to him, and Yuuji decided that he didn’t want to wait anymore. So he pulled back a little and gazed into Futamata’s warm, brown eyes which were watching him openly. And Yuuji asked another question. 

“Can I kiss you, Takeharu?”

He didn’t get a verbal answer because instead there were lips pressed clumsily against his own. Yuuji had nothing to compare to, but he definitely liked the way it felt. It left a warm, tingly feeling on his lips as they pulled apart, and the sparkle in Takeharu’s eyes made him want more. So he took it, moving forward to kiss him again. They took their time getting used to the feeling, adjusting so their noses wouldn’t bump and teeth stopped clicking when they got a little too excited. All the emotions that rushed through him had Yuuji reeling, but he couldn’t get enough. Because Takeharu hadn’t told him he was broken, hadn’t shied away from his confession or ignored his tears. For now, Yuuji would take this acceptance and wrap himself in it and wait to see what else would come. 

It was a learning curve, what they both were comfortable with and where boundaries lay. Takeharu was still worried about being touchy in public and telling their friends, but there was a level of casual intimacy they always had that was enough to make Yuuji’s heart sing. Yuuji loved kissing especially, it satisfied that ache in his chest and made him feel things he had been scared would always be out of reach. They worked on it, together, in the privacy of their bedrooms and sometimes hiding behind the school gym after practice. It was exciting, and Yuuji could ignore the itch of his still too tight skin when he was with Takeharu. 

As they prepared to graduate, Yuuji finally told his mother everything. She had been suspicious of Takeharu’s increased presence in their house but never said a word. When Yuuji admitted to her all of his feelings, in a more calm manner than the way he had burst out to his boyfriend, she listened with a hand on his and let him speak. Only when he was finished for sure did she squeeze tight and lean over to press a kiss to his temple. Because she wasn’t surprised about Takeharu being his boyfriend, she didn’t care that Yuuji had never looked at girls the way most of his friends did, but most importantly, she assured him that he wasn’t broken, and he never had been. 

Asexual. It was a word that Yuuji associated with plants and biology, but his mother explained it to him in a way that made sense, the way that only parents are able to do. He tried it out, rolled it around in his head and on his tongue and said the words out loud. And finally, Yuuji felt like he could breathe again like he hadn’t been able to do since he was fifteen and wondering why he didn’t feel the way others did. Because he wasn’t broken, he wasn’t weird and his body wasn’t late to bloom. Yuuji sobbed against his mother’s shoulder as he finally felt the weight he had been carrying for so long lifted from his shoulders. Yuuji repeated it again and again, getting used to the sound of it in his voice.

When he told Takeharu that night, as they were cuddling under Yuuji’s covers hiding from the embarrassing boyfriend talk his mother had subjected them to, he felt at ease with himself. Takeharu listened and kissed him when he was done and told him that he was proud of him for figuring himself out. Yuuji felt accepted and loved and he cried again. Takeharu kissed away his tears and held his hand and cuddled him close to his chest. He promised they would do some reading together, find out what made Yuuji feel the most comfortable in his skin. They would work on boundaries and on telling their friends and making time for each other even when Takeharu went to college after graduation. Yuuji kissed him over and over again, sinking into the warmth and joy that sang throughout his body and finally felt like he had somewhere he fit in the world.


End file.
